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182 Virginia Steer, con.

along the same line, but we long ago decided that
“all was grist” which came to the Asso. mill, and
as usual, selections ranged “from grave to gay,
from lively to severe”.

Rebecca T. Miller read from “The Survey” a touching
poem by Annie Field, whose gentle ministrations for
a year to an apparently lost soul in a diseased body,
fairly transformed one of the worst convicts in Sing-Sing
prison. This man, known as “Canada Blackie”
was overcome by Mrs. Field’s resemblance to his mother
and when he died in 1915, his fellow prisoners presented
her with a “gold heart” as this was poor
Blackie’s nickname for his good angel.

Our youngest visitor, Elizabeth Willson, gave
very gracefully the little clipping appended, -

“A Modern Nursery Rhyme”, -
“Sing a song of Europe,
Highly civilized,
Four and twenty nations,
Wholly hypnotized.

When the battle opens,
The bullets start to sing,
Now, isn’t that a silly way
To act for any King?

The King is in the background,
Issuing commands;
The Queen is in the parlor,
As per etiquette demands.

The bankers in the banking house
Are busy multiplying,
And the Common People at the front
are doing all the dying.”

The Sec’y read some extracts from a letter written
3 yrs. ago, when Edith N. Brubaker of Phila. was
visiting peaceful Belgium, - and lastly a prayer
by Prof. Rauschenbush, - “When our use of this world is
over and we make room for others, may we not
leave anything ravished by our greed or spoiled by our
ignorance, but may we hand on our common heritage,
finer and sweeter through our use of it, undiminished
in fertility and joy, that so our bodies may return

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